Language

I love it when Clergy swear; it makes them so much more, well, human.

I don’t think I’d heard a member of clergy swear twice in one sentence until yesterday; I was in Prison, delivering Christmas Cards (as you do) with one of the Chaplains. We also wound up doing a one-to-one (or two-to-one as I was shadowing the Chaplain). We’d spent near on 40 minutes with a very anxious man, who’d not seen his family for months, because they’re all 3 hours away and they can’t afford to visit and his gran is too sick to travel that far, either. He had requested, numerous times, to ask to be transferred to a prison nearer his family (which they do), but he’s not heard anything back, which I’m sure you understand is very distressing for him. So we went to the wing office to ask if they knew anything; and the officers who spoke were being really hard on him essentially calling him a cry baby and trying to play the system (which he said he isn’t, he didn’t want to be put on an ACCT – an obs programme for vulnerable prisoners) and ‘he should have thought about that before he broke the law…’ which is understandable, but at the same time, you’d be a bit down if you’d been in prison months and heard nothing back from all the applications etc. do the prison officers have no compassion? The Chaplain and I walked out the office, down the landing, and said ‘I’m going to swear…… miserable fucking bastards!’ which kinda made me laugh out loud!

Today I was in conversation with another priest, we were discussing a recent set back of mine, (the cause of which shall remain nameless) And in response to some hurtful prose whilst also discussing a difference in culture (and sex), he referred to them with some more colourful language. And, again, I think, I laughed.

On the whole I try not to use bad language; but sometimes I think it helps just to clear the air, to let off steam and feelings about something(or one). And both occasions to which I refer in this post, were, I add, in confidential spaces; they were no prisoners in hearing distance, and the Vestry isn’t exactly consecrated ground, anyway!

N.b. I do not endorse clergy swearing.

Tea Pots

There’s something sophisticated about having a Tea Pot. I’ve sufficed with making tea in a mug for the majority of the last 5 years or so, when I moved to university, and especially when I was at home drinking de-caff and everyone else would have normal Tea. I didn’t miss using a tea pot that much, or so I thought.

I’ve longed to own some Emma Bridgewater items for a long time. I love the simple practicality of a lot of her stuff. Living in Central London, and having an Emma Bridgewater shop on Marylebone High Street, a very short walk away from our flat, has played a huge temptation, which I am quite proud to say I resisted buying anything… Until it came to the January sales!

But at half price, I couldn’t wait any longer. This is similar to the Tea Pot I now own:

Beautiful, don’t you agree?

I know, a little extravagant.

But if Tea makes the world a better place, making Tea in a Tea Pot makes even better Tea, then, my word, the Tea I now drink is fabulous. It has all that extra space to diffuse and brew. And milk can be put in the mug first, and doesn’t it all make such a difference?! And, it’s even better than the Tea at home, as Mum and Dad’s Tea Pots are stainless steel, mine is pottery. The difference is wonderful.

Owning a Tea Pot enables me to feel like I belong in our flat; I am able to host wonderful people and make wonderful Tea. And play ‘mum’ using my beautiful Tea Pot. It’s comforting. And homely.

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Superheros

Catching up, God hears and answers our prayers

So, I’m in the process of catching up with life, the universe and everything. I’m trying to keep things in some sort of logical order, which to me would mean some sort of vague chronology to them.

I was about to post about Sherif and backdate it to sometime last week, when I first heard. However news has just come in that he has arrived at Heathrow this very evening.

God is good.

For more information, go to http://www.releasesherif.com/ for more details…

Royal Engagement Facebook Fail

We will remember them

When I was in primary school I was always so moved by the poem ‘In Flanders Fields’ by John McCrae;

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

 

 

I also remember so well being told the story in assembly, during the first world war, how over Christmas the Allied forces and the Germans brought a truce and played football together in no-man’s-land. I love that story. I always wished it hadn’t just been that one day. I wish it would still be now. That we could live in a world of peace and harmony.

Today, I had the privilege of serving at the Royal Albert Hall for the annual Festival of Remembrance with the Queens’ Scout Working Party. For the matinee service, myself and James (with whom I was on the Readers’ team for the National Scout Service of Queen’s Scout at St Georges’ Chapel, Windsor for the Centenary of Scouting in 2007) were wheelchair pushers, which involved meeting the less able people at the security entrances, helping them into a chair and taking them to their seats. It was really great getting to chat with some really incredible people. And helping those who’d got lost back to their coaches at the end!

In the evening, I was on duty in the Grand Tier, ‘selling’ programs. I say ‘selling’ because they were free, but a donation was requested. It was interesting, because many of the boxes are ‘owned’ by certain patrons, who host a select number of guests. And there is A LOT of money on that level! It was interesting to watch how a lot of people who came to the evening performance were there ‘to be seen to be there,’ in contrast with the sincerity of some of those who had been at the matinee.

I was stood about 6 ft away from the box David Cameron, his wife and other important people entered. It felt somewhat surreal! Ed Milliband almost pushed me over as he entered the Grand Tier – I wouldn’t have minded, but it wasn’t as if the corridor was heaving with people at that point (it was empty)! As the service began, Karen and I hung around to wait for the Queen to arrive a few minutes in to the event. A lot of the Royals were there, we counted everyone except William and Harry.

I remember watching the Festival on the television most years with my parents while growing up. I know it’s a very moving occasion. And yet, I still struggled with it’s intensity, of being in the auditorium during the service. Clapping as the Chelsea pensioners and widows etc. entered the arena just doesn’t cut it. This annual festival doesn’t pay for the loss of any person. Nothing we can do or say can ever make up for even a single life lost in conflict, however just or unjust. And that’s what I know some internationals struggle with; Remembrance Day isn’t about endorsing war or conflict, it’s about paying respect to those who have fought and given their lives for the service of others. To enable us, British citizens, to sleep safely in our beds at night.

The famous stanza from For The Fallen (1914) by Laurence Binyon left me holding back the tears.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

 

 

We will remember them.

Weekends in the country

I’m pretty sure I’ve said it before, but I need to make sure I escape London town and make for the hills every few weeks or so. Else I’ll go insane. I’ve had a lovely couple of ‘weekends’ of late with friends and family, and I feel really blessed.

The weekend prior to my birthday celebrations, I went to stay with my cousin, Mark, and his family in Leamington Spa for the weekend, which for me was a new thing; I’m the youngest of all our cousins, and they’re between 20 and 16 years older than me. So, when we (my brother and I) were growing up, for one reason and another, we didn’t really see our cousins that much.

Mark is ordained working as a vocations adviser for CPAS, where he runs LifeCall events. After conversations, he finally twisted me into coming along. As it happened, Dave went too.
I found LifeCall a really helpful day, despite being exhausted by the end! And I will explain more about this, specifically, in a separate post.
But it was just so nice, to get away from London for the weekend. To hang out with my cousin and get to build ‘adult’ relationships with him and Cathy, and mess about with their kids. We ate Chinese, we watched TV, we played games, we talked, we went to church… Just plain chilled out fun times!

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During the school half term, I put on my new boots and went to Burgess Hill to visit Hazel and Tony for a couple of days. I’ve not had chance to see them both properly, other than their wedding day, for ages! It’s the first time I’ve visited their house (which Hazel lived in prior to their marriage and Tony moving in), so it was really great to see them settled in. We went to the seaside, we celebrated birthdays, we went bowling, we ate lots of food, we played Monopoly; Tony won!

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This weekend, I traveled up to Liverpool in style; a First Class ticket was only £2 more expensive than the Standard one, so I figured it was worth it for the cup of Tea and internet! Cousin Heather and her husband, Alan, met me at the station, and again, it was great to spend time with them. Again, we had Chinese; it must be a Norris family tradition!
On Sunday, I went to Liverpool Cathedral, where I met Jules, ex LST lecturer, who was to be installed as Canon that afternoon. He showed me around the Cathedral, bought me lunch, I went up the tower as I waited for the Minibus with the LST contingent of supporters to arrive for the service. It was so Jules. It was wonderful to see him so happy in a job which is so much who he is! Jules took us out for dinner at a local Indian before we set off in the Minibus back to London!

I’ve really appreciated the opportunities to get out of the ‘big smoke’ for a couple of days each week for the past few weeks; probably should try to make it less often, but I know that getting out of town really helps me put life in perspective

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Girl Guiding 20:10 20/10 2010

The Centenary of Girl Guiding has been celebrated in many diverse ways. The Finale of the centenary year was timely planned for a celebration, with renewal of promises at 20:10 on Wednesday 20th October 2010; I like to think they planned it for my 25th birthday; Guiding is officially four times my age!

A long story short, I was able to join in with the Finale celebrations with my home Guiding connections, rather than in Leicester Square, with people I didn’t know that well yet.

I met up with the local Brownies and Guides in the village, and we caught the bus into Nottingham. It turned out to be a beautifully clear night, which also meant it was quite cold, but we had a good time! 4,000 Guides piled into Nottingham’s Old Market Square for the event. Which was kicked off with the local ‘Guiding’s Got Talent’ Stars, a local band followed by a presentation from the County Commissioner, before linking up with the rest of the world via the Community Channel, and then to Oxford, where we renewed our Promise, led by the Chief Guide.

I Promise that I will do my best,

to do my duty to God,

to serve the Queen and my country,

to help other people,

and to keep the Guide Law.

Thank you Guiding, for all you have equipped me with, here’s to the next 100 years!

Here’s some of the pictures I took, playing with my new toy:

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On the Bus: Taken by a Brownie: Guiding is inclusive to all girls: Pretty lights on the Council House: Daddy playing with my new camera: Being arrested for being associated with a bearded fellow: Brownies and their leaders warming up in Starbucks! x2: Marc having been run over by a tram, thus bringing the system to a halt, and protecting the 4,000 girls in the Square! (that’s logic for you): Daddy playing with my goody bag things: The buzz from all those pink ears!: Council House again: St Peter’s Church in the moonlight: Nottingham streets: Birthday Pub times: etc…: Mum and Dad on the Bus: The Moon.

After the event, Mum and Dad, Marc, Colette and I ventured to the pub for birthday drinkies, which was lovely. On the bus home, I somehow took the best picture of Mum and Dad that I know of. Don’t know how it happened, but hope you enjoy! Dad and I stayed up chatting and trying to take pictures of the Moon, before going to bed after a wonderful, blessed birthday.